


Long Shots

by GeekLibrarian



Series: God Save the Queen [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekLibrarian/pseuds/GeekLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean and Y/N had summoned Gabriel to help heal Castiel, who’s been beaten up. Meanwhile, they keep up with the research to find out who the demons are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Shots

Sam had gone to run some errands and Dean was lurking around in the library. He wouldn’t leave while Gabriel was still in there, something about not trusting a trickster with all that knowledge… You were sitting on the floor of the bedroom, back against the wall and facing the bed, holding your knees with your arms and your chin resting on them. You hadn’t left the room since Gabe had come, two days ago, and neither had he.

“I don’t understand,” you said suddenly. “Why doesn’t he come around? We jump to our feet when he heals us.”

“It’s different,” said Gabriel simply. He had stopped for a while and was now resting too. Castiel’s wounds had healed, but he still wasn’t waking. “Castiel’s vessel… has really gone through a lot. I believe it’s getting harder for him to heal, and this time he was almost dead. Besides, the wounds were caused by one of our own blades; his body reacts different than to normal weapons.”

You didn’t answer. Another hour went by and Gabriel went back to Cas to resume his healing. You resumed your looking at him from your spot on the floor. He was worried, you could tell, and he was tired. And so were you, and so were Dean and Sam. This whole thing was consuming you all and the air was tense. Discussions would rise up for no reason and shouting and doors slamming were now recurrent in the bunker.

“Y/N,” said Dean poking his head into the room. “You should come and see this.”

“I…”

“You too, Gabe.” He said, interrupting you and disappearing again.

The angel looked at you inquiringly, but you answered with a shoulder shrug and a surprised look. You stood up and lingered for a moment in the door, right after Gabriel had left. Cas was pale but at least he wasn’t all bloody, and his breathing had become stronger.

“Okay, Cas, just wake up now. We need you here.” Your tone wasn’t weak, you weren’t pleading. It was a strong request.

When you got to the library Sam was arriving too.

“Good, we’re all here” said Dean “I won’t have to explain this a second time.” He reached for a file that was opened over the table and looked at all of you. “Here’s the thing. The Men of Letters have this file on a league of demons that’s called ‘The Hellhounds Masters’ also known as ‘The Wolves’. This… league, group, squad, whatever you like to call it, they were crossroads demons. Really powerful crossroad demons. They would only deal with rich and famous and with a very particular kind of contract…”

“Their contracts involved many years and many souls.” Completed a voice coming from the hallway, and you almost jumped to your feet as you recognized Castiel’s rough tone.

“Cas!” exclaimed Dean putting down the folder and reaching for him. Castiel was leaning against the wall and looked like he was going to faint at any second. The older Winchester caught him right on time and helped him to a chair, along with Gabriel who had too run to his brother.

“Gabriel,” said Cas with half a smile looking at the archangel “I knew you were alive.”

“Oh, you know me, Castiel, I’m not  _that_  easy to get rid of.” He answered, patting his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

“Clearly.”

“Man, it’s so good to see you awake,” said Sam from behind his brother, clearly more relaxed than the last couple of days.

Finally, the angel’s eye caught your gaze and he tilted his head, barely furrowing and inquiring. That little gesture snapped you out of the daydream and sent you flying to his side; you grabbed him by the flaps of his trench and held his gaze menacingly.

“Next time you do something like that, I will personally hunt you down, bring you back to life (if necessary) and  _skin_  you. Are we clear?” Cas didn’t answer, he just nodded with a look of surprise in his face. But something about it made you think that he hadn’t bought the tough act.

“Okay, easy now, Y/N!” laughed Dean, pulling you back. “He just woke up, you can shout at him later.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Said Castiel, standing up again and fixing his clothes.

“Well then!” Gabriel clapped his hands together with a smile and wide-open eyes, looking at you all. “That’s my cue. Thank you all for the candy, the pie and everything. Brother!” he pointed at Cas with both his index fingers and started walking backwards, a mischievous expression appeared suddenly in his face. “Try not to die.” And just like that, he was gone.

“Where’d he go?” you asked, a bit annoyed by the fact that he didn’t even said goodbye.

“Gabriel has been hiding from heaven for some years now,” explained Sam. “They all think that he’s dead. He shouldn’t linger too much in crowded places. Especially when  _we_  are here.”

“Right!” Dean interrupted and placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder “You, little guy, are going back to bed.”

“I said I’m fine, Dean.”

“And I don’t care what you think. You need rest, Cas. Don’t make this worst for you.”

———————-

You were sitting on the hood of the Impala with your gaze fixed on your own car, still grey and red because of the showing putty. Your fingers were playing with a string tied up in a loop, making figures and knots that would undo and become new forms after a second.

“What’s that called?” said a deep voice at your back, and you startled.

“I thought you were sleeping still,” you answered, not looking at him. Ever since he woke up there had been something odd between the two of you, like a shadow, or an invisible wall, that pushed you apart. Something inside you stirred every time he was near you and you could do nothing to make it go away. Was it guilt? Remorse? Anger? You couldn’t tell what was it. It was just there, sitting and making you uncomfortable.

“I woke up a couple of hours ago. What’s wrong?”

“Dean will be pissed off if he sees you wondering around the bunker. You should still get some rest.”

“It’s been two days already. I’m fine now.” You didn’t answer nor look at him, your fingers still playing with the string. He stood there, his eyes fixed on you, watching you with that weird expression you’d seen in him the past few weeks, ever since all this has started.

“He feels guilty, you know?” you said suddenly. “Dean, I mean. He feels guilty because you almost died for saving them.”

“I know,” Cas answered simply. “That’s why I haven’t complained too much about this ridiculous situation.”

“He’s not the only one either…” you whispered, fixing your gaze on your hands and blushing fiercely.

“Y/N…” he started but you slid down the car and handed him the string, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s called a ‘string game’, you should try it. I’m going to get on with the research. Sam’s been working all alone today and he could use some company.” And you strode off, leaving him there alone, the loop hanging from his fingers and watching you walk away with pain in his eyes, a pain you failed to see.

You walked into the library like from a dream, stumbling a little and with a lost expression on your face. You still couldn’t understand how he managed to make you feel like that just by looking at you, and deep inside, you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Hey!” Sam greeted you, looking up from his book. “Oh… you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I just…” you looked to the garage and back at Sam. “I dozed off for a little over there.”

“Oh, okay. Cas was looking for you.”

“Yeah, I know, he already found me.” You walked past him and your hand lingered on his shoulder for a second. “I’m making myself some tea. Would you like some?”

“Uhm, no, but if you find a beer in the fridge I won’t complain.”

“Aye aye, captain.” He laughed a little while you left the room and went into the kitchen. Dean had clearly been cleaning. Everything was shining and in its place and you almost felt bad for using a mug. You placed your kettle on the fire and grabbed a beer from the fridge, better get it to him now, the water was still going to take a while to get hot.

“So,” you said handing him the bottle. “Anything new?”

“Nothing else. That file seems to be the only information in the whole place about The Wolves.”

For the past two days all of you minus Cas, who Dean wouldn’t let wander around, had been reading every single book, listening to every single record, and browsing every single file, looking for a little bit more of information on this group.

All you had found out, besides the name, was how they worked. It was an elite group of demons, a sect, who didn’t believe in anyone but themselves. They didn’t worship Lucifer or Lilith or the King of Hell… because they firmly believed no demon was worthy of ruling Hell but them. They were outcasts and worked in limited territories, the principal of which was London. They targeted big families and offered them the contract of the century: for a whole generation (something about 30 years), they would have fame and glory. The price was the soul of the signer and the soul of his/her firstborn. The firstborn child would die instantly. The signer would live for 30 years. After the completion of that contract, the demon would return to the heir and offer the same terms…

“I’ve been searching online too,” Sam continued, “but every lead vanishes some twenty years ago. Like they’ve been radio silent for the past two decades.”

“That would explain lots of industries going bankrupt, actors falling into disgrace and all that stuff…” You mumbled lowly, but before you could think of anything else, the whistling of the kettle reached your ears and you ran back to the kitchen. You reached for a mug and a bag of tea, but you hand froze before grabbing the Ceylon box and redirected, finally picking the English Breakfast package.

“I’ve noticed you don’t drink the other one anymore,” said Cas. You hadn’t seen him sitting in the corner of the room. You sighed and reluctantly turned around, looking at him for the first time that day, and it shocked you to see how pale he looked, how broken.

“Hey…” you walked towards him in a little rush, suddenly forgetting how uncomfortable you had been just some minutes before. “Sweety, are you okay? You look like crap.”

“Why don’t you drink Ceylon anymore, Y/N?” He asked again, looking at you with clouded eyes. You breathed deeply, looked down and held his hand, and when you did a shot of electricity ran through your entire body, filling you with warmth and excitement.

“Because I don’t feel like drinking it alone anymore,” you answered simply.

A silence fell over you both, but the shadow was gone. You still couldn’t look at him but you could feel his eyes fixed on you once more.

“Maybe you could make a cup for me?” he asked softly, and a smile grew in the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah, I could do that.” So you turned around to pick another mug, and this time you grabbed the red box of Ceylon.

The smell and vapor filled your lungs and made you close your eyes, sinking into the pleasure of the feeling, the warmth curling around your hands and face, stroking your skin. And when he placed a hand on yours, his touch was just like the vapor of the tea. And this time you did look straight into his eyes and you got lost in that ocean.

“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me,” suddenly came out of your lips. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all this I don’t understand. And I’m so sorry for whatever my family did years back.”

He tilted his head inquiringly, and didn’t need to make a sound so you’d understand what he was already thinking.

“Oh, please, Cas. You don’t think I didn’t make the connection yet? It’s crystal clear.”

“I was hoping we could get to them before they found out about you.”

“That was a long shot, my angel, and you know that,” the words came out of your mouth naturally, as you filled the second cup of tea, and you froze there, not knowing what to do or how he would react. But he was smiling a little, and there was glimmering light in his eyes again.

“Yes, I did know.” He answered, and grabbed his mug.

“We should tell Sam and Dean,” you whispered, still flustered.

“Yes, we should.” He said, and walked towards the door. When he reached it, turned around and asked, “Are you coming?”

“Be right there, love… Uhm, Cas.”

You were completely red in your cheeks, you knew that at least. As soon as Castiel had disappeared through the door and into the hallway, you slid to the floor grabbing your head, breathing heavily. What had just happened? Where did those words come from? You’ve never called anyone yours, you had called everyone “love” “sweety” “darling”, but “angel”? And, more precisely  _your_  angel? And to an _actual_  angel? Everything was so messed up. And him, he looked so normal about it all, so happy. _Maybe,_  you thought,  _he’s just happy I was talking naturally to him. Maybe he didn’t even notice it._

But that, too, was a long shot, and you knew it.

When you got into the library, Dean was already there and Cas was explaining what he hadn’t had the chance to say the last few days.

“Y/N is the last of a long lineage of the Lords, a family that through the centuries has managed to stay close to power and money. All through the generations, there were lots of dead children and miscarried babies, which was more than usual for those times. I’m not sure about this, but I’m inclined to think that her parents made some deal. There were at least two other deaths in that train wreck that belonged to a rich family. My guess is that they were taking care of more than one of the souls.”

“What doesn’t add up,” you said, sitting across from him in the table, “is ages. Let’s say my father sold his soul… shouldn’t he have been given thirty years as well? And why are they back now, when it’s only been twenty years? And shouldn’t… Shouldn’t  _I_  be dead?”

“Probably something went wrong,” ventured Sam. “Maybe they weren’t supposed to go, maybe they weren’t re-negotiating the deal…”

“That doesn’t sound like them… whatever it was… It wasn’t that.”

“Ok,” said Dean after a couple of minutes of silence. “Up to what actually matters. They DO die, don’t they? I mean, we’ve got the demon knife and the angles blades, all we need is a little training.”

“Maybe more than just a little. I’m afraid we’re definitely going to need some help on this one,” Cas’ voice was heavy and you knew in your gut what he was about to say, even before he said it.

“We’re  _not_  calling Crowley.” You stated, fixing your eyes on his and holding the stare a lot longer than your heart could handle.

“It might be the only way…”

“I can’t believe you’re actually proposing this, Cas. You out of all people…”

“I’m not happy about it, Sam! But he  _could_  be of immense help against them.”

“We’re not calling him,” Dean’s voice was grave and his stare deadly “We don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust us, so no. We’re not working with him.”

“He might be the only way to prevent Y/N getting killed. I’m not sure you understand that.” Cas said with obvious anger. He stood up and left the room before anyone could answer.

The boys looked at you in disbelief and you answered by shrugging and raising your eyebrows.

“Oh, no, don’t look at me. You’ve spent way more time with him than I have.”

“Well… this is your job so… You might be the only one able to convince him,” said Sam closing the files and standing up. “You know, we’re running out of options here.”

“I did not ask for any of this, Sam. It’s not my  _job_ , it’s just my bloody life catching up on me once and for all!” You just blew up, this was too much. Sam talking to you like that was too much. Demons all over the place were too much. Castiel almost dying was too much. You couldn’t take it anymore. “Maybe its just time for me to get those bastards off your asses so you can go on with your lives! Because I’m obviously disturbing your peace here, yes? Well, don’t worry ‘bout it,  _Sam_ , you’ve got all the time in the world.”

You strode off and picked your jacket up on your way to the garage. You had your gun and your blade, and your car keys. No Winchester was going to stop you from saving their lives. Maybe you didn’t even have to die, but that was another long shot.

Cas watched the silhouette of Ghost disappear in the dimming light from the front door, his mug still clutched in his hands and a dark shadow across his face.


End file.
